We aint hitched—-?! Well not yet, darlin, but the preacher’s due here any second. I bought myself some special underbritches fer the occasion yu’re jest gonna love. I’d show em to yu, but it’s bad luck t’see yer bride’s— But, Belle, I caint do thet! It—it—whut kin I say?—it dont go with the job! Fiddlesticks. I’ll git yu a new job. Yu kin play the pianner. I dont know how t’play the pianner. I’ll larn yu. I dont wanta be larnt. She brings her ruby-tipped breasts over for him to kiss. He turns his head away. Belle, dammit, this aint right, I jest aint the settlin-down kind. Yu’ll git used to it, lovey. Anyways it’s too late, yu done promised. But yu said yerself I wuznt right in the haid. Dont matter none, promise is a promise. Breakin one mebbe aint a capital offense around here, but the punishment fer it aint a purty thing t’watch. She leans over him and tickles his ear with one of her painted nipples. Now c’mon, handsome, give em a little smack. From now on, they’re all yer’n.
